


i love you but i can't remember why

by scirallydia



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5811754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scirallydia/pseuds/scirallydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holster's dad dies, which sucks. But he and Ransom finally figure some things out, which definitely doesn't suck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i love you but i can't remember why

**Author's Note:**

> I'm kind of in love with these dorks (and they're in love with each other) and this is a piece of writing that started very spontaneously because of that. Basically I was so thirsty for fic of these two that I had to resort to writing some as well.  
>  I do kind of wish I had focused more on how Holster was feeling because obviously having someone close to you die is very hard to deal with and I don't know if I conveyed that enough, but I didn't really want to make this fic any longer. Maybe I'll do one from Holster's POV some other time...

Ransom isn’t sure what makes him cut his shower short and sprint upstairs to the attic, but he does know he feels an overwhelming sense that something is wrong. Like, the hair standing up on the back of his neck kind of wrong. Maybe even the “I forgot to study for a final and the test is tomorrow” kind of wrong. Chalk it up to freaky d-men connections or the mysterious Haus ghosts (which by the way, are totally not real), either way he knows that he needs to go check on Holster. He bursts into the attic with a towel wrapped around his waist, still dripping, not even in the room before he’s saying, “What’s the matter?”

Holtzy looks up from the bottom bunk where he had been sitting with his head in his hands. His entire face looks red and sad, not even in a drunk way. Holster rubs at his eyes. Ransom tries to put a pair of sweatpants on without taking his eyes off his best friend. He trips a little over a dirty Samwell Men’s Hockey sweatshirt, but mostly manages the task. Holster sniffs a little. Ransom is really starting to lose his shit at this point.

“Rans...my dad died.”

Ransom nearly trips again to make his way over to the bed as quickly as possible. He sits next to Holster and wraps his arms around him.

“Shit, man. I’m so sorry. Your dad was like, the best.”

Holster just grabs tighter to Ransom and they sit there for a while. Ransom rubs circles onto Holster’s back and tries to stop his mind from spinning with all the questions he wants to ask, like  _ how did he die? _ and  _ how is your family holding up? _ and  _ did you know I could feel that something was wrong with you? _ but Ransom is a great best bro and he asks none of these questions until Holster’s ready to talk. Eventually, though, he has to ask one question, because Holster is in no state to do or go anywhere. So it’s up to Ransom to sort some smaller things out.

“Hey, do you want me to tell Bitty?”

Holster looks up at him with miserable eyes and nods. Ransom gives him one last pat on the back before he stands up and moves to right outside the attic door. He calls Bitty while peering in the room at Holster, who has moved so that he’s lying down on the bed, curled up into a fetal position. Ransom’s never seen him this wrecked before, and Ransom has been through every emotion with Holster over the past three and a half years.

“Hey, Bits.”

Bitty must have like ESP or something because he cuts right through the crap to ask Ransom what’s wrong. Either that, or he heard the crack in Ransom’s voice.

“Um...Jesus there’s no way to soften this news. I don’t know how people do it.”

Bitty’s voice is muffled on the other end of the line. “Is someone hurt? Are you hurt? Y’all are worrying at this poor boy’s heart.”

“No, no, I’m fine, everybody’s fine. Well...Holster’s not. His, um, his dad just died.”

“Oh my goodness,” is all Bitty says. Eventually, he adds, “I..is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah, Bits, that’s actually why I’m calling. If you could let the rest of the Haus know, and maybe some of the team if you have time, that would be great. I’m just gonna sit up here with him and maybe coax him to come down for dinner.”

“Do you want me to come up there?”

“No, that’s okay. I think it’s probably best if it’s just me for right now. But if you wanted to make one of your blueberry crumbles…”

“I’m on it,” Bitty says firmly. Ransom knows he means both the pie and telling the others. He lets out a sigh.

“Thanks, Bitty.”

“Talk to you later. Oh, and please tell Holster I’m prayin’ for him.”

After he hangs up, Ransom walks straight back to the bottom bunk to sit beside Holster again. He knows that Holster probably wants some space right now, but some questions are time sensitive.

“So when are we leaving?”

Holster looks up in surprise. “You’d miss a game.”

“Like I’d be able to play without you. I would just be focused on wherever you were. I think we share a brain now or something.”

“But shouldn’t the team have one captain there-”

Ransom just gives Holster a look that says  _ they’ll get by without us _ . Holster nods.

“Okay, the flight leaves tomorrow morning. It’s the soonest one my mom and I could find that gives me time to pack.”

“So should I start looking for tickets? What are the chances I can get on that same flight?”

Holster gives him a half-hearted smile. “...pretty good, considering I already bought you a ticket.”

“Bro.”

*

The two of them go down to dinner much, much later. The sky is turning dark outside, but neither of them move to turn on a light. Holster still hasn’t moved from his bed. Ransom has Holster’s head pulled to his chest and both of them are staring blankly up at the bottom of the top bunk. Over what should just be wooden boards, a poster of Betty White is taped up. It’s from when she was in Golden Girls, of course, because Ransom’s best friend is a total nerd. Ransom uses his free arm, the one that isn’t around Holster’s shoulder, to ruffle his friend’s hair. He debates about chirping him on his poster choices to lighten the mood, but decides against it because there’s lightening the mood and there’s being an insensitive asshole. He leans into Holster and brings his mouth down to his ear.

“Hey, dude, we should probably go down and eat something.  _ You _ should go down and eat something.”

Holster moves his blank gaze from Betty White’s baby blues to look hazily up at Ransom. Their faces are a lot closer than Ransom expected. And Holster’s eyes are like ten times prettier than Betty White’s. Ransom’s chest tightens.

“I’m not hungry,” Holster says quietly.

“Let’s just go down there and see how you feel,” Ransom says. Holster frowns a little and buries deeper into Ransom’s chest. Ransom tries to ignore the resultant churning in his stomach, a biological reaction to the feel of Holster pressed up against him, but also the disappointment at him turning his face away. Now is not the time. So maybe that’s why he moves his arm out from under Holster’s neck a little too quickly, but he tells himself it’s really because it’s important for Holster to eat something today. One reason is a little more valid in his mind than the other.

Holster’s hands cling to Ransom’s shirt (which he put on after Holster had laid down earlier and made grabby hands; this isn’t the first time they’ve cuddled).

“C’mon bud,” Ransom says as he sits up. “I think Bitty baked a pie.”

Holster squints up at Ransom and sighs.

“It’s blueberry,” Ransom adds.

“I  _ guess _ we could go see,” Holster huffs.

“You might want to put on your glasses then,” Ransom says. “You know, if you want to see and all.”

Holster throws his pillow at Ransom for the gentle chirp and finally sits up all the way and shoves his glasses on.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“You sure you’ll be able to see your way down the stairs, old man?”

Ransom isn’t surprised when he gets shoved down said stairs.

*

Sure enough, when they get to the kitchen Bitty is pulling a pie out of the oven. He looks up and instantly his face softens in sympathy.

“Hey boys,” he says quietly, as if Holster will bolt at the first loud noise. “I saved both of y’all a plate from dinner.”

“Thanks, Bits,” Ransom says as he tugs Holster along to sit at the table.

“Adam,” Bitty says, “I am  _ so _ sorry about your father.”

Ransom thought that most of the crying was over, at least for the day, but that’s when Holster’s voice cracks as he thanks Bitty. Ransom knows the tears aren’t far behind.

“Oh, honey,” Bitty says, and he goes over to hug Holster, who just buries his face into Bitty like he did with Ransom earlier. Even though he’s sitting down, Holster’s head is still way higher on Bitty’s chest than it should be. Ransom feels a surge of fondness and sympathy toward his giant, dorky, sad friend.

At that moment, Chowder walks in, notices Holster crying, and immediately looks guilty. So Bitty got around to telling Chowder at least. Lardo walks in behind him with a sympathetic expression on her face. Well, at least the whole Haus knows now. Ransom makes eye contact with Bitty and nods at him. Bitty nods back, as if to say  _ of course _ .

“Hey Holster!!” Chowder says nervously. Holster looks up from Bitty’s chest and Ransom smiles a little at his crooked glasses. Some things will never change.

“Um, sorry if I’m overstepping, but I’m really sorry about your dad like that sucks so just sorry and-”

“What Chowder  _ means  _ to say,” Lardo says, giving Chowder a look, “is that we’re both really sorry about your dad. That is so totally not ‘swawesome.” Ransom wonders, not for the first time, if Lardo and Chowder sharing a bathroom has formed some weird bond between them that transcends words.

Holster sighs and waves both of them over. “Bring it in, you two. Group huddle.”

Just then, voices come from the entranceway and someone calls out, “What are we group huddling about?”

Another voice responds with, “I don’t think ‘group huddle’ is a verb. Aren’t you an English major, Nurse?”

“Dude, chill,” Nursey replies as he and Dex walk into the kitchen. Both of them stop at the sight of almost the entire Haus hugging. Nursey looks at Chowder’s expression and Ransom braces himself for whatever cringe-worthy moment is about to happen. Chowder is a good kid, but he can be awful about keeping his mouth shut. Although, it’s not like Ransom and Holster are any better in that regard.

“C? What’s going on?” Nursey asks.

Holster, however, is the one who answers him. He clears his throat before saying, “Uh, my dad passed away this morning.”  
Nursey immediately goes over to hug Holster. “I’m so sorry, man.”

Dex echoes his remarks, but stays where he is until the conversations around them start to drift to other things. He approaches Holster nervously. Dex’s eyes flicker to Ransom before he addresses Holster.

“Um,” Dex says, looking a little pained. He scratches the back of his head. “My mom died my junior year of high school and I know how much it sucks. So if you ever want to talk about it…” His voice trails off.

Holster nods gratefully. “C’mere, man.” He brings Dex in for a hug. Dex is awkwardly stiff, but Ransom is pretty sure in this case it’s the sentiment that counts.

Everyone sits in the kitchen for a while, talking quietly in the yellow glow of the lights. Bitty and Ransom are finally able to get Holster to actually eat something, and one by one people drift away to go do other things. Ransom gets a pang in his chest as he realizes how much he’s going to miss everyone next year. He carefully avoids thinking about whether or not he’ll need to miss Holster, as so much is up in the air with both of their plans right now. The future depends on getting jobs, getting into schools, getting a place to stay...maybe Holster will want to move closer to his family now. Holster pulls him out of his thoughts with a quick squeeze to Ransom’s shoulder and a head nod towards the stairs. Ransom can’t help but hope that maybe everything will work out alright no matter where the two of them end up.

***

“So, Justin, is it? Where did you say you’re from again?”

They’re at the visitation and Ransom has lost count of the number of random people he has now met that somehow knew Holster’s dad, or even better, what Holster was like as a kid. Ransom opens his mouth to respond to one of Holster’s aunts whose name he can’t remember (his dad apparently had a lot of siblings), but Holster beats him to it.

“What do you mean by that, Cheryl?” he says, his smile forced.

Cheryl looks confused. “I thought most people from your school weren’t from around the area? So I assumed he was from somewhere else. I’m sorry, Justin, are you from around Samwell?”

“He’s from Toronto. Let’s go.” Holster tugs on Ransom’s wrist and leads him away. Ransom gives her an apologetic smile as they go.

“Dude, what was that about?”

Holster rolls his eyes. “I’ve suspected for like, years that my aunt Cheryl is a closet racist and I’m pretty sure she didn’t think you were from Canada.”

Ransom gives his friend a small smile. “Dude, no way she’s a closet racist. I bet you she dated a black dude in high school.”

“Oh you’re on,” Holster says with a gleam in his eye and something inside Ransom’s stomach does a flip. Finally, finally, he’s said something that distracts Holster from the grief. Not that he shouldn’t be grieving, but seeing the most important person in his life hurting is making Ransom miserable as well. He just wants Holster to feel happy and whole, and although that might take a while to get to, he’s determined to do whatever he can to help with the process. Which includes teasing Holster about his potentially racist aunt.

“Wait,” Holster says. “What are we betting?”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Ransom says. “C’mon, grab a cookie. We’re going back over to possible closet racist Aunt Cheryl.”

Holster takes a stack of cookies, which, given his hand size, is probably like ten. Ransom’s been on the end of enough arm wrestling matches to know that Holster’s hands are huge. He reaches for Holster’s other hand and gives it a squeeze. Holster squeezes right back, which Ransom takes as a signal that it’s okay to walk over.

“Love you, buddy,” he mumbles under his breath, then addresses Holster’s aunt before Holster has a chance to respond. “So, Cheryl, tell us what Holster here’s dad was like in high school. He was probably as much of a troublemaker as this guy, am I right?”

Cheryl lets out a small laugh, Holster lets out a small sigh, and Ransom, well, Ransom just smiles.

*

“Okay, bro, I think you’re the closet racist.” Ransom laughs. After the entire conversation they had with Holster’s aunt, nothing had turned up close to making her racist. She had, in fact, dated a black guy in high school and was even involved in activist groups with him. Ransom’s pretty smug about being right, but hey, he knows people. And most of all, he knows everything there is to know about Holster. Even things that Holster doesn’t know about himself.

“I’m a closet something,” Holster grumbles.

Ransom raises an eyebrow.

Suddenly, Holster’s expression brightens. 

“I know what I should have to do for losing the bet.” Holster grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He seems kind of nervous, which in turn makes Ransom kind of nervous.

Still, Ransom follows with an, “Oh yeah?”

Holster doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Ransom, as if he’s steeling himself up to do or say something.

“What are you thinking?” Ransom asks softly.

Apparently Holster has made up his mind because suddenly he’s leaning in and his lips are pressed lightly against Ransom’s and  _ oh _ . This is definitely a good reward for winning the bet. Holster’s hand comes up to cup Ransom’s cheek, and he pulls away to look Ransom in the eye. His mouth quirks into a slight smile.

“How was that?” the most important person in Ransom’s life asks after  _ kissing him.  _ Ransom doesn’t know how to respond so the two of them just stand in their secluded corner of the room and breathe in time with each other for what feels like an endless moment.

“It was...good,” Ransom says honestly, when he remembers to talk again.

“Good,” Holster says, almost as if he can’t quite believe what he did or what Ransom said. Ransom is still reeling a little bit, but mostly it just feels right. There is one thing he needs to address now before he gets his heart crushed into a million little pieces. The coral reef can only handle so much stress.

“Hey, Adam,” Ransom says, using his friend’s given name so Holster can know he’s being serious, “I don’t want this just to be a grief comfort thing. I really like you and as your best bro I will do a lot of things for you, but I can’t pretend everything’s fine with this one if you don’t actually want something out of this. I don’t want to be just a fling or a way to get over your dad or the friend that you platonically kiss.” 

Ransom knows he’s not being really clear, but he’s counting on Holster to know everything he can’t put into the right words. His mind is calm-like the eye in the center of a hurricane or something. It’s like everything with him and Holster had been building up to them admitting this revelation. It’s just him saying something that has been there all along, although neither of them have had the guts to say it until right now.

“It’s not,” Holster says. He makes sure Ransom is looking him in the eye before he continues. “A grief comfort thing, I mean.”

Ransom’s never seen Holster look this sincere before, and he’s seen Holster tell someone with a straight face that if he could play Matt Damon’s character on 30 Rock he would give up hockey for the rest of his life.

“Okay,” Ransom says. “Then this can wait.”

He can’t resist leaning in, though, and kissing Holster one more time. Holster looks confused.

“I thought you said it could wait...And I was the one who lost the bet, dude.”

“That’s for making you listen to Aunt Cheryl’s stories for like forty minutes.”

Holster smiles and he looks dorky and his glasses are crooked and Ransom just wants to kiss him and kiss him until they’re both breathless. He almost does, too, but he stops himself. Besides the fact that a service for Holster’s dad is not the place, it’s also not the time. He needs to wait until they’re back at the Haus, at least. He knows Holster wouldn’t lie to him about it not just being because he’s grieving, but it won’t hurt to give it a little time. Neither one of them is going anywhere.

*

Later, the two of them sit together on Holster’s couch in pajamas. Holster’s siblings have all already gone to bed, and his mom is washing dishes in the kitchen with one of his aunts. Ransom had offered to help, but Holster’s mom, or Mama B (as Ransom has affectionately been calling her as long as he’s known the dork who is his best friend), brushed him off. She said she needed something to do, so Ransom had just nodded and went and sat with Holster on the couch. It’s dark outside, but neither of them bother to turn the lights on, and the tv is also off. From the other room, Ransom can hear the low murmur of voices and the quiet rush of water. It’s actually pretty soothing. Holster is curled into his side, absentmindedly playing with the hem of Ransom’s shirt.

“I’m glad Jack and Shits could make in time for the actual service today,” Ransom says eventually.

“Yeah,” Holster says. “It was nice to see them, even though the circumstances suck majorly.”

Ransom plays with the hair at the nape of Holster’s neck as they talk.

“And it was nice of Lardo to call tonight,” Ransom continues. “She really wanted to be here. But you know, she had a game to manage with both of us gone.”

“I’m sure Lards was fabulous tonight,” Holster says as his eyes droop closed. “And I do appreciate her calling. She’s my second favorite after you.”

Ransom snorts lightly. “Don’t say that in front of Bitty or you won’t get any pie for a while.”

“Bitty loves me,” Holster says sleepily. “And I love you.”

Holster struggles with opening his eyes, but finally he succeeds. “Hey, you hear that? I love you. I love you I love you I love you.” 

He pokes Ransom in the chest on the last one, a little too forcefully. Ransom grabs hold of Holster’s hand and tugs both of them into a standing position. “Let’s get you to bed, okay man?”

Holster yawns, nods, and his eyes close again.

“And Holtzy?”

Holster hums a questioning sound from where his head has moved to lean on Ransom’s shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

***

They’ve only been back at the Haus for a few days when they have the talk Ransom’s been waiting for, although it doesn’t go quite how he expected. Holster has just gotten off the phone with his grandma and he shakes his head as soon as he hangs up. Ransom sticks his head into the bottom bunk, looks at Holster’s expression, and immediately moves down to sit next to Holster.

“Man, that is up there in the top ten of weirdest convos I’ve had with Grandma Nancy.”

Ransom stares at Holster, who makes no move to explain what he meant. “Earth to Holster,” he says after the wait is too much and his staring has no effect.

Which is weird because Holster always loves giving play by play recaps of family drama. He can do impersonations of pretty much all of them, and now Ransom knows just how spot on they actually are. So he can’t figure out why Holster isn’t telling him what just happened.

Holster scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “She just asked me how long we’ve been together. As a couple. She referred to you as ‘that nice boy Justin.” And she wanted to know if I didn’t tell her because I was scared she wouldn’t approve of me dating a guy. Also, apparently the entire family supports me no matter who I date. Just...what. Even.”

Ransom shrugs and tries to keep his tone as casual as possible. “I mean, it’s not that weird, bro. And it’s kinda cute that Grandma Nancy is looking out for you.”

“Dude, literally my entire extended family now thinks something is going on between us, on top of the fact that my mom and sisters have been hinting at me for years that they know something. They all think you’re my boyfriend.”

This is it. This is the moment that Ransom has been waiting for since practically the day he and Holster met and had an instant connection. A connection that doesn’t happen with just anyone. Ransom is pretty sure he knows what Holster’s answer will be, but he still hesitates before saying, “Well, I mean, I kinda want to be, if that’s okay with you.”

“Bro.” Holster pauses to give him a crooked smile. “I’d like that.”

Ransom thinks back to what Holster just said and grins. “They’ve been hinting for years?”

Holster reddens. “Shut up.”

“It’s okay, man. You know my oldest cousin Gina, you met her at my family reunion? Ever since then, she makes sure to ask me when the wedding is. And then she winks.”

Holster chuckles. “I think it’s a little early to be planning a wedding.”

“But it’s not out of the picture?” Ransom asks. He sighs dreamily. “I always wanted to wear a white dress at my wedding.”

Holster pushes him off the bunk, and not for the first time Ransom is grateful that the bottom bunk is where Holster sleeps. Falling from the top bunk probably would’ve hurt a lot more. He lays on the floor cackling, only to crack up harder when Holster peers over the edge with a faux disapproving expression. It melts into fondness within seconds before he says, “Although, if you did want to wear a dress, I’d be okay with it. To channel my inner Shitty, fuck heteronormativity anyway, am I right? You wear whatever you want and don’t worry about conforming to gender roles. You know what, fuck weddings too. Who’s to say that one relationship model should be more valid to the government than any other?”

Holster’s impression of Shitty is creepily accurate. But he’s also pretty sure Holster would be okay with him in a wedding dress if he really wanted to, which is kind of why they’re such good friends in the first place. Ransom grins and reaches his arms out for Holster to pull him back onto the bunk. He thinks he should be more surprised at the surge of love he feels toward Holster right now, but to be honest, the feeling has been there for a long, long time. So when Holster finally does pull Ransom onto the bed and into Holster’s side, it feels natural for the two of them to lean into each other and press their lips together. And while the first kiss was Holster’s and the second was Ransom’s, this one truly belongs to both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> title from one line wonder by the avett brothers   
> (aka a song that gave me major feels the first time i heard it, and still has every time after)


End file.
